


Little Poor Me

by 247Elena



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dick tries to be a Good Brother, F/M, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Deserves Better, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, some minor rewriting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23666911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/247Elena/pseuds/247Elena
Summary: All it takes for someone to break is for another to push them too far.Canon Divergence: Basically from the point that Jason gets kidnapped by Deathstroke.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Rose Wilson
Comments: 69
Kudos: 227





	1. Little Lost Robin

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this since Season Two came out, I didn't want to put it out until I was done because I have a tendency of starting work, posting it and then have years sometimes between updates. You may also noticed that Jason is 15 in this series, around the age of all the other titans. The tone of season one implied Jason was young, so I'm basing it off of that. If you don't like that, it is a small detail that shouldn't affect your reading. So please be mindful of that, and respectful. 
> 
> I have it all written up, probably looking at weekly chapter releases so I have time to edit a chapter before release.
> 
> Anyway, this all came from how upset I was from Jason's treatment by everyone in Season Two and then the quick ass recovery he seemed to show after being kidnapped, tortured and suicidal. I wasn't happy at the time when I started this, I calmed down a bit this year writing it but then as I was writing I got angry again. But what can you do when you gotta sort out everyone's shit in this goddamn series. 
> 
> Trigger Warning/Heads-up:  
> This series does detail the usual level of violence in the series, I do go over Jason's injuries a little more than the show does (considered he somehow is able to function after being tortured but I ain't got time to get into that).  
> There is a look into his mental wellbeing and, of course, his suicide attempt shown in the series. I don't want to give too much away but be warned that this stuff does get descriptive and I don't want to hurt people when they read this. So, please take care of yourself.

Jason Todd knew two things: one he had gone longer without water and two he hadn’t gone much longer without water. He shifted, though not very much, in the chair he was bound to too tightly to find any relief. His stiffened limbs yearning for a movement they had been denied. He had shifted wrong, a throbbing heat burned in his left thigh, blood lazily oozing from it in stagnate bubbles. Sensory deprivation was a killer too. Time wasn’t anything to him right now, it ebbed and flowed about as steadily as the blood did from his thigh. Deathstroke would come and go, sometimes he would jerk him around. A punch here and there, but other times… the other times he didn't linger too long on. It seemed so impersonal as well. When the bastard was craving or burning his way across Jason’s skin, there wasn’t a joy in it for the man. He never asked questions or for information, just did his part and left. 

From the little the man did talk, this was about Dick. It was always about Dick. Jason couldn’t even get tortured without it being about Dick. Jason was just a tool to get to Dick, draw him out. Get Rose too. It was a twisted and bitter feeling to know that he couldn’t even get kidnapped and tortured on his own account. 

Jason jolted in his chair, as a hand almost caressed his head before pulling this hair painfully back, the earmuffs falling to the ground in the commotion. Jason grunted in response, witty remarks had now become few and far between and he didn’t have the energy to go another round just yet. Not so soon after the last round.

“Where’s Jason?” The hand gripping painfully in his hair released him, his head pounded from the blood flow.

The voice is distant, muffled against the constant ringing in his ears, but recognisable. Dick Grayson. And Jason, despite it all, almost cried in relief.

“Oh,” Deathstroke leered into the phone. “You mean your little sidekick?”

And whether it was hearing Dick, or just the thought of being labelled as the sidekick to a sidekick, it was enough and Jason found his voice again. “Who the fuck are you calling a sidekick, asshole?!”

The fist across his face hurt more then it should’ve for him, the next few punches to the gut reminding him of the injuries that had numbed to a dull throb. A sickening crunch and a sharp pain told him the last one had broken a rib, he shallowed a breath in painfully, coughing out raggedly.

“You fucking bastard!” A voice screamed over the phone, and for a moment there Jason thought he was losing it because that couldn’t be Hank. “Come try that shit with me!”

“Just tell us what you want.” Dick seemed too calm and that worried Jason even more.

A hand suddenly found its way around his throat, gripping painfully, squeezing, causing Jason to sputter and choke. “As I was saying,” Deathstroke tightened his grip to emphasis his point, though it wasn't for his teammates on the other end. Jason felt like his eyes would leave his skull any second. “If you want him backhand over Rose.”

A few seconds went by and Deathstroke kept his grip, waiting. Jason pleaded inside his head for Dick to say something, anything, to get this prick to let go. His head swam in and out of consciousness, threatening to fade into nothingness soon.

“And how do we know you’re going to keep your promise?” Dick finally said and the hand just as suddenly left Jason’s throat and he was dizzy in the rush of air scrambling down his throat to his lung. He sputtered and retched at it, sucking in the sweet air greedily.

For a moment, Jason thought Deathstroke was distracted. Leaving him some reprieve until a sound he had grown too used to sound off. The telltale sound of a butane torch turning on. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Jason’s voice felt like gravel through his throat. He couldn't see and somehow that made the pain tenfold. It was blinding white pain that sheered into his hand, no matter that it had happened already, it still felt like the first time and Jason screamed just the same, the smell of sizzling flesh filling his nose. The bile rising in his throat bubbled, threatening to lurch up any minute. Noise from the phone echoed, screaming with him but he couldn’t care less about what they were saying. It was just white noise in the background to him.

“Tonight three a.m..” Jason hadn’t realised the flame was away from his skin, he breathed in rapid intakes. “Embarcadero Plaza, outside. Use this phone to confirm.”

Deathstroke hung up with that, the torch off and on the table beside Jason. The twinge in his chest reminds him of his beating with every breath he took, his hand twitched involuntarily with a sharp pain that creeps up his arm. And yet he couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up his throat instead of the bile from before.

“What’s so funny?” Deathstroke- Slade, asked, surprisingly annoyance wasn’t in his tone to Jason’s dismay. Just another reminder that Jason was little more than a tool to use against Dick.

“Oh, I dunno,” Jason coughed, sharp spikes in his throat. “The fact that you think they would actually trade their only leverage over you for me.” Because yeah, Jason thought it was absurd. That it was insane and idiotic and never worked out for the bad guy in the end.

“You think they do not value your life?”

Jason straightened up as much as he could, which wasn’t much at all. “I think the ‘sidekick of a sidekick’ has about as much leverage as a fucking rock, good try though. B plus for creative thinking right there.”

Jason was waiting for the next hit that would send him to a sweet and blissful nothingness and away from this shit-stained reality he was in right now. And for once, the beating didn’t come. 

“We shall see whether that’s true or not,” Slade said calmly, setting to work on something Jason couldn’t see.


	2. I Tried Hard

The fall. There was a moment where he thought he could hold on, a burst of relief mixed with adrenaline felt like a euphoria and he drowned himself in it until his hand finally had nothing to hold onto. Whiplash hit and he plummeted and the euphoria had turned to a sickening panic and realisation that he was dead. He was dead now, fucking hadn’t even had a _legal_ drink yet and he was dead.

But then he wasn’t. Then he had crashed into someone, his body colliding in a bruising fashion, the unknown person's body protecting himself as they crashed into a car. There was that euphoria again, he was floating but still felt solidly on the ground. And then being alive hit and his body was screaming. The man underneath seemed relatively okay. In fact, he seemed pretty fucking dandy as Jason rolled rather uncerimounsly off of him, crashing to the ground that only caused his whole body to seize up in pain. 

The mysterious man was by his side in an instant, hands hovering over Jason’s form with uncertain worry. “Are you okay?”

“If I-“ Jason heaved, a mixture of spit and blood dribbled down his chin. “Wasn’t so grateful for you saving my life, I’d say what a stupid fucking question that is.”

And then a shot rang out, and blood that wasn’t his own sprayed across Jason’s crippled form. A thud, the car creaked under the force, and Jason could see out of the corner of his eye, the man slide down the ground. Jason, with what strength he could muster, dragged his hands underneath himself. Shards of glass cut through painfully and his burnt hand pulsed under the weight and pressure he was forcing it through. He all but dragged himself over to the man, who was gasping as the bullet wound dribbled blood.

“Jason!” A cry echoed, and soon Jason saw both Dick and Kory halting to a stop. The was a moment where the two just stared down at the scene, the shot mysterious man and Jason’s battered form slumped next to him. And at that moment, something in Jason had had enough. Something told him to just sleep, to give in and he did. He did gladly. 

And like that, darkness was a welcomed reprieve to the pain he was in.

-

Jason’s screaming. He’s falling again except this time it’s not ending. He’s falling and falling and falling. And it won’t stop. His gut wrenches and rolls in tidal waves, the air whipping him like little lashes as he continues down a never-ending fall. It was a sickening feeling when he came to realise that this was it for him. That death was to come and then a blackness he never knew before would come for him. And then he hit the ground.

It was beeping. The first thing he heard was a steady beeping, then the feeling of cotton under his fingers. Then the aches in his body, a dizzying amount that hazed his head and caused him to groan. It must have alerted someone in the room because suddenly there is a shuffling to side of the bed next to him and Jason doesn’t know where he is and who it is next to him. What happens if it was all a fevered dream? Infection was setting in, he could feel the heat on him, in him. There was a miserable pooling heat in his chest that greeted him as he woke. Pulsing inside him with each painful beat of his heart. 

The blurred figure in the corner of his eye came closer, and his heart started a painful pace. The figure halted but it did nothing to calm Jason down. Squeezing his eyes back shut, because he didn’t want to see. Because he never left that place. He was still there, the fall was a fevered death wish. 

“Jason?”

And he knew that voice. It had been screaming at him when he was falling. It had been an echo that followed him all the way down and he latched onto it now.

“Jason, do you think you can open your eyes for me?” The voice asked and Jason felt like telling him to stick it up his ass because he had a headache and he didn’t want to know whether he was still in that cold dark room and this voice was just the wishful thinking of fevered thoughts.

“I don’t want to.” The voice came out, hoarse, and it didn’t sound like his own. Couldn’t be his, it sounded too soft, too frayed and weak. “I don’t wanna be back there.”

There was silence for a bit, a beat where Jason feared that he was back there and his stomach dropped in on itself. “You’re not there anymore, Jason. Please just open your eyes.”

And there he was. Dick Grayson. Except he didn’t look like the Dick Grayson Jason was used to. He looked tired, circles under his eyes drawn down, his hair more disheveled than usual. There something Jason can’t identify in Dick’s eyes that he’d never seen before and it makes his head swim. Everything is making his head swim, because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there anymore, his wrists weren’t burning from restraints. He could hear and see and that was almost too much for him. Dick smiled, though it looked sad, tiring as though he didn’t have the energy for it but he did it.

“How are you feeling?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question, dickhead.” Jason scrapped out, though there was a relief in his voice, holding no bite in it. “I feel- I feel like I was a human punching bag for a day before being tossed out a window.”

“I’m so sorry, Jason.” Dick croaked out and Jason thinks he’s miss hearing things now.

“You’re sorry?” Jason coughed, tried to sit himself up but a sharp pinch in his ribs and the way his right-hand flared with heat that caused him to loose the strength to keep pushing it made him fall back down. “I was the one who went out on my own, it was my stupid fucking plan. My fucking fault I got capture. My fault I was- I was…”

“Hey,” Dick’s hand goes to reach out but he hesitates when Jason flinched at the motion. “I shouldn’t have kept any of you out of it. I’m supposed to be teaching all of you yet I’m not letting of you actually learn.” 

“Yeah well, I learned a lot,” Jason graveled out, because now… now he wasn’t self-loathing anymore. He was angry.

“If you want to talk..” Dick went to start. 

  
“No, I don’t want to fucking talk about what happened,” Jason’s voice was venomous, he was a live wire about to fray. “I don’t need your input on how I should be feeling, I don’t want to talk about what Slade Dipshit Wilson did because it doesn’t fucking matter anymore. He did it, it’s done.”

“Jason,” Dick tried.

“I’m getting out of this hospital bed,” Jason scrambled with the cords, ripping out the IV drip, throwing the cotton blanket aside with his good hand, ignoring the way his injuries groaned under protest. Dick raced over to the other side of the bed hands on Jason in a second when the kid got out of bed. Jason’s legs wobbled under his own weight and begrudgingly he was grateful for Dick’s support. “I’m going back to my own goddamn room whether you want me to or not.”

“I can help him back to his room.” A voice piped up. Gar was standing in the doorway, watching with a look of concern poorly concealed on his face.

Dick looked at the boy. “Gar you’re meant to be in bed by now, go to sleep. I can handle this.”

The green-haired boy stepped forward, seemingly ignoring Dick’s order. Jason, whether to spite Dick or not took the hand offered by Gar like a lifeline. “I’ll make sure he’s okay, I promise.” 

Dick relented, his own fatigue setting in and he knew that by the end of the night Jason would most likely crawl to his room, injuring himself further, without any help. The kid was annoyingly stubborn, at least this way someone was watching over him. 

Gar wrapped an arm around Jason, under his arm, and lifted. Jason stumbled a bit but found his footing and the two left the room down to Jason’s own.

When they finally made it and Jason finally found the comfort of his own bed again underneath him, Gar hovered around like a new mother cat to a litter of kittens.

“Thanks, Gar,” Jason mumbled. He sighed, eyes fluttering open to find Gar still standing there. “Sit down, Jesus, I can’t stand you hovering over me like that.”

A mumbled sorry and Gar sat down on the bed, Jason feeling the dip next to him. 

“I’m so sorry Jason.” Gar finally said, his voice pitching near the end heavy with sorrow that made Jason even angrier.

“Why the fuck is everyone saying sorry? I did this to myself,” Jason said with such conviction, Gar thought it sounded rehearsed.

“No you didn’t, Jason,” Gar responded, a look of bafflement on his face. “It’s Slade’s fault.”

“He wouldn’t have done it, if I didn’t practically deliver myself to him like a gift without a bow,” Jason said, a clouded look filled his eyes, almost as though he was somewhere else.

Gar regarded him with a look of concern. The boy felt his own heart collapse in on itself when he finally took in Jason’s form. His face battered and bruises, a spilt lip. His neck a dark ring of hues pink and red, wrapping around Jason’s throat like a vice. When they had brought Jason back, the mysterious man in tow, they couldn’t really see the extent of his injuries when he was in his suit, and the adults had rushed him through and closed them all out when they went to follow. Rachel and Rose had stood back, Rose huffing with indignity and Rachel a stricken face. They had been put back waiting while Jason was kidnapped and now that he was back none of the adults were saying anything about it. None of them knew exactly what had happened, and some part of Gar didn’t want to know. Not when he could actually see the aftermath of it, his arms now bare were littered with deep gashes, now stitched, his hand bandaged. There was probably more underneath the sweats that Jason was wearing that Gar didn’t want to see. 

Instead of replying, Gar got up, grabbing a spare pillow and blanket and laying them out on the floor. Jason’s face scrunched up in question, eyeing the boy as he laid out on the floor beside Jason’s bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jason asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Gar replied, a huff escaping out of him as he got comfortable as he could on the ground. “Going to sleep.”

“You have a room for that,” Jason grumbled.

Gar grunted in response, turning over and closing his eyes. Jason stared at the boy for a good few seconds before sighing. His eyes caught his window and he was falling again. He stared, trapped in a loophole of slipping out of Dick’s hand, the wind like liquid around him. It was the anticipation of the ground, the hit. It made the fall a loop of fear, waiting for it to be over yet not wanting for it to be over. A limbo that he couldn’t escape. When he stared out the window, trapped and falling, he soon realised that death would be better. Death would be better than this. 

He didn't know how long he had been in that loop, only now Gar was snoring heavily and the moon was high in the sky. His feet had found their bearings, he stumbled when he first stood up, almost tripping over Gar in the process. He shuffled through his draws, finding what he was looking for and then out to the kitchen. He couldn’t stand the window, being in his room, and becoming trapped once more. He sat down at the counter, swigging back the bitter amber liquid of alcohol.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind him but Jason couldn’t muster the energy to turn to see who it was. Not that he needed to when a hand came around and snatched the bottle out of his hand.

“The fuck?!” Jason exclaimed, his eyes meeting Hank’s who looked equally as furious.

“The fuck is right, kid,” Hank grated, his hand slamming the bottle just out of reach for Jason and turning back to face him. “How in the hell did you get that? You’re fifteen”

“So what, I can go out risk my life every other day but god forbid I drink any alcohol,” Jason bit back. “Yeah, that makes a fuck ton of sense.”

“Kid, you do not want to go down this road, trust me I know.” Hank leveled, surprisingly he couldn’t find it in himself to get as mad as he should be. Not when Jason was covered head to toe in bruises and bandages and cuts and burns. And the list just went fucking on and he was only fifteen. Fifteen. Despite the context, it was a sobering realisation. It was too easy to forget they were all kids, that they were still growing and learning. 

“Yeah, yeah you know.” Jason spat out, his eyes leveling with the bottle behind Hank. “But the truth is you don’t really fucking know what I’m feeling so back off.”

Hank sighed, a hand running over his head, feeling the stubbled hair. “You know what, I’m worried about you. I’m worried sick. Because what you went through, that was on us. You shouldn’t have had to go through that and yeah I do know what that is like. So talk to me instead of doing what I did.”

Jason paused, his eyes catching the windows again before forcefully pulling himself away, casting this down to his bandaged hand instead. “I can’t stop falling.”

Hank’s eyebrows furrowed, his eyes following Jason's hoping to see what the kid saw but he couldn't. “What do you mean, kid?”

“I mean every fucking time I look out of the windows I feel like I’m falling again and I don’t know whether it would’ve been better if I had just hit the ground.”

A beat and Hank forgot whatever anger he had before. Because he’s forgotten. He forgot that Jason Todd was still a child. Still a lost child. Thrown into a world of crime-fighting that seems fun until the reality sinks in and shit like this happens. Shit where a child gets tortured within an inch of his life, thrown out a window, and has to deal with it for the rest of his life. Hank had been through it, but he wasn’t fifteen. He wasn’t a child and he hadn’t coped well with it on any account. So, how does a child cope with it?

“Jason, I know I haven’t been the most understanding person here. I know I haven’t been the nicest to you,” Hank feels himself rambling because shit he’s not good at these kinds of things. He needs Dawn here, needs her to say what he’s thinking in a better way than he ever could. “But I’m here, whenever you need to talk. No one is expecting you to be okay after that.”

Jason felt himself deflate, a heaviness in him settling in, his limps like weights.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Hank urged, a hand on Jason’s shoulder. Jason winced and Hank retracted his hand. “You need to get some sleep and you don’t need this-" Hank's hand lifts the bottle up, "-to do so.”

Jason eyes the bottle again before Hank gently guides him away to his room. Gar still laid there, snoring softly, mouth slightly opened causing Hank to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

Jason shrugged. “He wouldn’t leave when he brought me to my room.”

Hank nodded, somewhat relieved that Jason wasn’t alone in his room. Not after what he had just heard. When Jason had settled down in bed, enough so that Hank felt comfortable leaving back to the kitchen.

His hands found the bottle of alcohol. The liquid sitting not even half empty yet as he poured the rest of it down the drain of the kitchen sink. He felt arms slide around his waist, he sighed into the comfort of it.

“Everything alright?” Dawn whispered in his ear, her eyes no doubt catching the bottle, no doubt smelling the stench of alcohol.

“Caught Jason drinking this,” Hank replied, leaning back into Dawn as he put the empty bottle down, turning around to face her. Seeing her face contorted with concern.

“What?” Dawn asked, her eyes falling on the sink as though she thought to burn the alcohol now down the drain. “How’d he get it?”

“God knows,” Hank shrugged. “The kid’s probably got a portfolio of fake IDs.”

“Are you okay?” Dawn emphasised as she lifted her hand to his face.

“Dawn, I’ve seen that look in his eyes before,” Hank said, remembering what Jason had said before Hank took him to bed. “It was one I've had in the mirror every day back then. I don’t know how to help.”

“Oh dear,” Dawn murmured with a small dip of her head as she took in those words. “All we can do is be there for him, Hank. Be there when he needs it.”

After they got out of this mess, after they got back to the way things should be, after they were all able to properly process everything that is and has happened, they needed to sit down with each other. Take a moment to just connect. It wasn't as though they had all be given the chance to bond as a team. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter done and dusted. Thank you for all the support on the first one, it was amazing to read all those comments. Hope you all enjoyed the update, if you like it comment/kudos would be appreciated.


	3. You Know I Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank everyone for the wonderful support so far, it's amazing to wake up to find people reading and leaving kind words and thoughts. I hope everyone is doing well during this time as well and coping with it. I have been out of work for over a month now and been struggling each week to make ends meet so know that you aren't alone in this, it's hard and tough but I hope people are somehow receiving support through this tough time.
> 
> So, I thought I'd mention this again since a person brought this up in a review the last chapter. Jason's age is based roughly on the comic timeline. That is why I have placed him at 15 rather than do what the tv show did and age him up. I have ideas about a follow-up story maybe and in order to do that he has to be at this age in correspondence to the comic timeline. Hope that clears up some confusion, I myself have only recently gotten into the comic universe lore side of things.

Dick hadn’t gotten much sleep that night. In and out if it in fitful bursts that were worse then no sleep at all. Bruce’s voice in his head, echoing words he knew but didn’t want to accept. He had failed at protecting the kids. He had been stupid. Thinking that Deathstroke would accept that trade-off without a catch, without knowing that Slade was thinking five steps ahead. That he wouldn’t take away his own little brother- Dick hadn’t really thought of Jason as a brother, not until now. Deathstroke wanted to hurt Dick, take away something like he had done to Deathstroke. And instead of making it hard for Deathstroke to do it, Dick had ostracised Jason, humiliated him, and hurt him. Drove into Deathstroke’s grasp. If he had told the truth, let them all know what exactly Deathstroke wanted, why he was back, maybe Jason wouldn’t have been in the middle of all this. Maybe he wouldn’t have become a victim to all this. 

Dick stared at the empty Robin display, only picturing the torn suit they had pulled off of Jason in its empty place. 

  
“Dick,” A soft voice called out behind him, footsteps so light Dick wouldn’t have known someone else had come in if they hadn’t have called out first. “You okay?”

Dick turned to face Dawn, despite her composure her face was tired. Long and drawn, something in there that Dick couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, of course.”

She gave a small smile, it was tight and maybe a little forced. Like she didn't believe him yet didn't want to openly say it. “That’s good. Though I can’t say the same for the person who saved Jason or for that matter Jason.”

Dick’s eyes locked with her, a peak of worry jagged in his heart, eyes searching hers as though he hoped to find the answer hidden away in there. “I thought you patched them both up. Jason seemed fine when he woke up.”

“I did the best I could for the stranger but there were complications.” Dawn nodded her head to the hallway. “Come, follow me.”

Dick trailed behind Dawn, he couldn’t hide the fact that his thoughts drifted to Jason even as they entered the room where the stranger lied unconscious. Kory was standing over the boy, her eyes locking with Dick’s as soon as they entered the room. 

“Is he stable?” Dick asked, coming up beside the bed.

“For the moment,” Dawn replied. “Whatever they shot him with, left something behind. Some sort of toxin.”

Dick nodded, and if they didn’t know what sort of toxin they couldn’t treat it. It wasn't the greatest news in the world, especially if the toxin was slow-acting and the worse was yet to come.

“What about Jason? You said he wasn’t doing well? Something happened?” Dick asked and Dawn seemed to almost grow more tired at the question.

She took a moment before answering as though she couldn’t find the exact words she needed. Or perhaps she didn't want to say what she was about to say. “Hank found him last night, drinking a bottle of alcohol.”

“Jesus, what the hell is he thinking,” Dick mumbled under his breath, once again a surge of blame swelled in him. He shouldn’t have let Jason go back to his own room, he should’ve stayed and watched over him. Bruce’s voice echoed again about failing to protect the children.

“He’s not,” Kory’s firm yet comforting voice cut in. “He’s terrified and hurting.”

“Hank said…” Dawn started yet the words caught in her throat, sitting there and swelling. Swelling so much she feared she might suffocate on them until she released the bubble from her throat. “Hank said that Jason talked about killing himself.”

It felt like Dick’s world tilted on him, Bruce’s tutting echoed behind him as he swallowed down the bile that threatened to climb up his throat at the thought of… of losing Jason again.

_Twice in less than a day, really going for a record here._

The voice behind him echoed, an airiness that danced with the words. 

It seemed this was news to Kory as well, her face dropping like a pin, filling instead with a resolve unlike a determined mother’s. 

“Are you-“ Dick wetted his lips, feeling like he had been sucked dry. “Are you sure that’s what he meant?”

“Hank seemed pretty sure.” Dawn nodded. “Perhaps you should call Bruce. This boy has special abilities, he may know who he is and with Jason…”

He could hear Bruce behind him, mocking him, baiting him. Yet his mind swirled with thoughts of Jason, trying to reorientate himself from the doubt behind him. 

“Dick?” Kory called out to him like he was far away and not right in front of him.

“I’ll call him,” Dick nodded, if not for this boy then for Jason at least.

“Good,” Dawn said. “Maybe you should go to see Jason again?”

Dick nodded, “On my way.” 

Dick walked down the halls, passing by each of the kids' room until he came to the end. Jason’s. Yet, when he opened the door he didn’t find Jason. Instead, he found a snoring Gar on the floor, skewed and tangled in a fleeced blanket.

“Gar,” Dick called out, causing the sleeping boy to stir and sit up suddenly. Half drowsy eyes springing to alertness as he stared at Dick.

“Wha-what, what’s up?” Gar mumbled through the sleepy daze he was still in.

Dick’s eyebrows scrunched, “What are you doing in here?”

“I stayed with Jason last night,” Gar muttered softly, the heaviness of sleep still weighing him down.

And Dick, dipping his head, felt something inside him swell at that. It was nice to know that someone around here was looking out for Jason. 

_And doing a better job at it then you are_.

The voice behind him hummed, the tendrils of its doubt worming inside his ears.

“Did you see Jason get up last night?” Dick asked, curious since Gar had been in here all night with Jason.

Gar seemed more alert, worried as he heard the seriousness in Dick’s voice. “No. Why what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s fine.”

“I thought we weren’t keeping secrets anymore.” And Gar sounded hurt, and it only made the guilt building inside Dick claw at him deeper.

“You’re right.” Dick conceded.”He and Hank had a talk last night in the kitchen but it’s not my place to say more. If Jason wants to tell you, he’ll do it when he’s ready.”

And that seemed to sit right with Gar because he nodded in understanding, groaning as he stretched his likely sore back and neck and sighed in relief at the cracks that echoed from his spine. The floor was likely not the most comfortable place in the world to sleep.

“You saw where Jason went this morning?” Dick asked.

“Said he was going to the training room, needed to do something.”

It made Dick mentally groan at Jason. He shouldn’t be training this early, not even a day after he was rescued, with all his injuries. But he said a quick thanks to Gar, making his way to the training room to find Jason. Music blaring and fists flying somewhat smoothly at a punching bag. His right hand was being favoured, Jason wincing every time it made contact with the bag.

“You all right?” Dick asked, knowing that Jason would lie and already knowing the real answer. More of a formality if anything else.

“All good,” Jason grunted, a particularly hard punch landed on the bag and Dick picked up on the sharp intake of breath that Jason made.

“You should be resting, you probably didn’t get much sleep last night.” Though Dick didn’t mention that he knew that Jason didn’t get much sleep if any last night. “And you had cracked ribs and burns. You shouldn’t be training for at least a week. Take it easy.”

Another painful punch. Another sharp intake. “I don’t want to take it easy. I feel good.”

Bruce had something to say to that. Doubt always had something to say.

When Dick didn’t walk away, Jason stopped turning around to face Dick. 

  
“That was quite the fall you took.” And it was an understatement at that. Dick watched as Jason diverted eye contact, eyes downcast at the comment.

“Yeah, it was hellacious.” Jason remarked, leaning against the railing in the middle of the room. “How’d it look from your angle?’

It felt like bait. It also felt like a diversion, dismissive and Dick knew better than to take it at face value. “Scary.”

“Yeah well good thing that guy was there,” Jason mumbled, a lace of blame tangled in it. But Dick wasn’t sure whether it was directed at him or at Jason himself.

And all he could say to it was, “Sorry.”

Jason went to make another punch but hunched over, his breathing ragged and strained and Dick took a few steps closer at that. Halted only when Jason sent him a warning glare.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Man, cut the crap.” Jason bit out in return, standing straight up. “How about you say what you really want to say, huh? That this is all my fucking fault for going out alone. You say sorry like that’s going to change it. It won’t.”

“No,” Dick shook his head. “I don’t think that at all. I think I would have done the exact same thing in your position.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on…”

“It’s true.” Dick continued. “I remember what it was like, being put on the bench, being treated like I couldn’t handle things on my own. You do anything to prove that you can handle missions by yourself, even when you know you shouldn’t.”

Jason takes two deep breaths in, seemingly trying to find a response but instead, he slides down to the floor, head falling between his knees as he pulls them up to his chest. Dick has a thought to leave. That Jason would do his own thing and work himself out but he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Not after everything that has happened. Not after what Dawn told him. Even so, he knew that Jason needed people around him. To support him. So, instead of walking away and leaving Jason alone to himself, Dick sits down beside him and acts like the brother he should be.

“I just want to be alone, Dick.”

“I know about last night with Hank,” Dick said instead, ignoring what Jason just said.

“Can’t do anything in this house without somebody snitching,” Jason grumbled out, his head not leaving the nook of his arms. “The hell did he tell you?”

“Everything.”

A pregnant pause filled the room when Jason realised what that meant, a quite sniffle was all Dick picked up on but he didn’t comment on it. Knew that Jason just needed to have someone listen.

“It was nothing, I shouldn’t have said it.” Jason finally responded, his voice scratchy and squeaked near the end. 

“It’s okay to talk about it Jason,” Dick said gently. “I’m glad you did.”

“I’m fucking Robin,” Jason ground out, that brief intermission of openness wisped away. “I’m meant to be stronger than that.”

“You’re still a kid,” Dick squeezed his eyes shut. “We are thrown into this world so young. Expected to think rationally but we were all just kids. You’re still Jason Todd.”

Jason could only stare at Dick then, his head lifting to meet Dick’s eyes, his own shimmering with tears not yet fallen. And it seemed to click, something between them because Jason didn’t bit back, didn’t scream at him, didn’t yell. Just stared with heavy fatigue that had been in his limbs for nearly two days now. Suddenly, he felt the throbbing of his injuries, his chest screamed at him, his hand radiated pain, the skin on it blistered and bleeding through the bandage. The cuts niggling at him like persistent bites that yearned to be itched. Expect they yearned for relief from the pain. 

They sat like that for a bit, and it surprised Dick that no one had come in, in that time though he swore he say Rachel out the corner of his eye at one point. Jason had stopped sniffling sometime ago. His breathing had finally evened out, only the depth of it any indication that he was in any pain. 

“I was thinking about going back to Gotham, maybe seeing Bruce,” Dick stated, seeing how Jason finally turned to him at that. “But I don’t think I should leave, I’ll send Bruce a message let him know what’s been going on, he might be able to identify who saved you.”

Jason nodded at that, Dick felt like he had wanted to say something but didn’t. Instead, Jason wiped his eyes, finally getting up with Dick following the motion. 

Jason cleared his throat, “I think- I think I’m going to go lay down. Try and get some sleep.”

Dick simply nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Jason left, and Dick was left with his head swimming as he walked out to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, please comment/kudos is you enjoyed.


	4. I Care, I Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loving all the support for this story, glad to see people are enjoying it. Now I can't promise all the things people want to come into this story but you never know. 
> 
> I made a little note on the last chapter but I'll put it again here, Jason's age is based on the comics. It seems the show aged him up for some reason beyond me but I am thinking about doing another story in this verse after I finish this one and in order to do that to my liking, Jason needs to be as close to the comic's as possible.

Donna, Dawn, and Hank huddled around the island counter, an array of breakfast cereals out and each picking at the bowl in front of them when Dick walked in. 

Hank didn’t bother to look up from his bowl at Dick when he asked, “What’s with the Houdini act?”

Dick only managed to purse his lips at the comment, throwing his jacket down on a table as he walked over to the group. “What?”

“Out there with Deathstroke.” Hank elaborated, finally looking up from his bowl. “You disappeared and left us in the dark.”

“You go off by yourself with nobody to trade?” Dawn pressed, her eyes knowingly lock with Dick as though she knew that he had. Himself. “No back up?”

“Can we not do this now?” Dick pressed back, his recent conversation with Jason had been draining, to say the least. “I fucked up, I thought that instead of Deathstroke taking Rose that maybe he’d go for me instead.”

“Jesus Christ, Dick,” Hank uttered, his spoon abandoned in his bowl now as he stared at Dick. “Is there more you weren’t going to tell us? Something else to do with Deathstroke?”

It gave Dick pause, it also got heads to perk up from their bowls. The urge to run out and leave had suddenly become a viable option, his eyes subconsciously looking for the exit. There were many instances where Dick thought he could tell them, thought about ways to bring it up in conversation as though it would be a casual thing to mention. ‘Oh hey guys, remember that kid Jericho? Yeah well, he was still alive in the church, and I all but plunged the sword in him’. There were times where he wanted nothing more than to say something, times after a mission where he just wanted it to be over. Getting that phone call from Deathstroke, hearing Jason choke and sputter on the other end. Hearing him screaming in outright agony and all he wanted to do was be in his place because he deserved it. Because Deathstroke was angry at him, not Jason. And that was exactly the reason why Jason was with Deathstroke and not him. 

“There’s something,” Dick mumbled the words out without realising. Without filter. “I realised after the phone call, why he took Jason, kept him alive, tortured him. Because it wasn’t about all of us or just Rose. It was about me.”

“What do you mean?” Donna spoke up, soft was her tone yet there was an edge to it like she was poised for a blow she was expecting to come.

“That day in the church, with Deathstroke and Jericho.” Dick started even when the other team member’s faces turned cold at the mention. “Jericho was still alive.”

“What?” Hank uttered though he wasn’t exactly wanting an answer, because that was all the answer he needed. Dick had lied. He had lied and anything beyond that was white noise in his ears.

“Hank,” Dawn warned him, her hand squeezing his arm gently yet firmly. She could so easily read him, knew the slight ticks that warned her of the shifts, but at times he didn't easily disguise his anger. “Calm down.”

“Calm down?” Hank huffed an empty laugh, his face played it like a joke but his eyes were deadly and trained on Dick as though he thought to shot him with that. “Calm down? You’re telling him Jericho was alive and well when you walked in there. Why the hell did you lie?”

“Because it was my fault that Deathstroke killed him. My fault that the kid got dragged into it, he died trying to save me.” And it sounded like an admission, an admission of guilt, an admission of failure. Something Bruce had drilled into him since his young Robin days like he had inherited it from his adoptive father because that was what Bruce did when he failed.

“Any more half-truths you want to tell us?” Donna said a level of bitterness in her tone and it hurt Dick more than he liked to admit. 

“Donna, I was ashamed.” Dick tried to explain. “I thought telling you all would… I don’t know.”

“That’s right, you don’t know because you didn’t say a damn thing,” Hank growled under his breath. "Sometimes I feel sorry for you, you have a Batman hero complex you know that? Every little thing is suddenly your responsibility and you leave everyone else in the dirt because of it."

“I have half the mind to walk out of here,” Donna said, her cold eyes meeting Dick’s as she glared him down. “But unlike you I take responsibility, these kids need us and we still have unfinished business here.”

All Dick could do was nod at that, shame and guilt brewing and bubbling in him at a sickening pace. They all stood in silence, bowls of cereal abandoned, appetites gone. Dick couldn’t look at any of them, fear of what he may see in them when he did. 

“Donna’s right,” Dawn said finally. She was deceptive, Dawn was. She never said what she felt and hid it very well, behind her softness was an even more furious Hank and it made it all the more like a punch to the gut. “What happened, happened. Lying was a mistake that I hope you won’t make again but we have an issue we need to deal with. Did you message Bruce?”

Dick coughed at the change in topic, grateful at Dawn for giving him that. “Yeah, before I saw Jason.”

“How is the kid?” Hank was angry, furious, but the concern outweighed it at this moment and Dick latched onto it. 

“Tired, found him in the training room beating the shit out of a punching bag, probably did more on himself than anything else.” 

“I’ll have to check over his bandages,” Dawn sighed. “Make sure he didn’t rip the stitches.”

She gave Hank a quick kiss on the forehead, walking towards Dick, patting his shoulders lightly before making her way over to Jason’s room.

—

Jason had wanted to sleep, wanted to lay down and rest. He couldn’t remember the last time he had besides when he had passed out at the bottom of the tower, he had only been out for a couple of hours at that. Deathstroke and Dr. Light hadn’t let him sleep. Every time he thought he was slipping into a restless sleep, a hard punch was struck across his face, jolting him awake again. The day and some he had spent there and felt like an eternity. Between the beatings and the in-depth torture sessions with Deathstroke, Jason had spaced. A sense of out-of-body experience washing over him. There was nothing for him to grab onto being blinded and deafened, so he left. When Deathstroke pushed the knife in him, Jason left his body, watched on as an observer because he couldn’t be there anymore. 

And now he was falling again. Trapped in his limbo.

He hadn’t noticed the knock on the door or the creak of it being opened but he did notice when the music was turned down.

He spun, waiting to yell out whoever had come into his room until he saw Dawn there. 

“Oh,” Jason muttered, his anger simmered down and deflated. “Hey.”

Dawn gave him a warm smile, “Hey, how are you feeling today?”

“Feeling pretty sick of that question, to be honest,” Jason grunted, shifting on his feet as the woman entered further into his room. “Thank you though, for you know fixing me up and all that.”

“That’s actually why I’m here,” Dawn explained as she walked towards Jason. “I heard you decided to beat the hell out of a punching bag. I just want to make sure you didn’t pull anything out.” 

Jason groaned but didn’t make to protest as he sat down on the bed. “Does everyone get a notification when I go to do something?”

Apparently yes. Jason hadn’t been used to living with other people, on the streets and even in Wayne Manor, he had been free to do what he wanted without prying eyes. There was always the implication of Bruce watching him always, it was a mutual understanding, but within the Manor and outside of being Robin, he was free to just be him on his own. But now, he thought, now he bet he couldn’t go to the toilet to take a piss without the others knowing. 

“We’re just watching out for you,” Dawn hummed, waiting as Jason pulled off his shirt.

It wasn’t easier the second time around. Seeing a fifteen-year-olds chest littered with bruising. His ribs bloomed hues of red and pink, the bruising in its early stages. The burn to his left shoulder, blood spotting the bandage, the precise knife wound on his side. The cross-stitching of cuts that peppered the boy like confetti. Deathstroke was a sick bastard and Dawn was going to kill him. It was a promise she would ensure was followed through.

She set to work, opening the medical kit she had brought with her. She was quick and gentle, Jason only hitching his breath when she had to redo the stitches on his side.

“There,” She said finally as she finished reapplying the bandage to Jason’s hand. “All done.”

Jason mumbled a ‘thank you’, pulling over his shirt again. Dawn watched the boy’s eyes fall back to the window. She had noticed it when she had come in, he hadn’t even realised that she was in his room. Just stared out the window.

“Jason,” Dawn said, the boy shook his head from his gaze out the window.

“Yeah?” 

“When’s the last time you have gotten any sleep?” She asks, sitting down next to the boy. The bed dipped as she sat at his side, her feet nudging the pillow on the floor, and the skewed blanket not too far from it. It was a comforting thought, that someone had watched out for Jason when they couldn't. 

“I slept on my way back here.” Jason retorted, sarcasm was always a good sign with Jason though she knew now it was only deflecting. 

“That wasn’t sleep, honey,” Dawn chided, her hand finding its way to his knee causing him to jump slightly. It shocked him, though he made no real effort to move away. Touch had been a funny thing with him, always pain was associated with it. Even Bruce had seldom made contact with Jason, the boy had only known human contact to mean pain. Yet Alfred was the exception, Alfred had been the only one to be able to get Jason in a hug in his first year at Wayne Manor. 

“Deathstroke didn’t let me sleep.” It came out as a tired omission and Dawn wanted nothing more than to hold him for it. “Every time I went to, he beat the shit out of me.”

  
“Come on,” Dawn reaches out her hand to his, Jason’s eyebrows furrow. “Kory makes the best hot chocolate.”

“I just-“ Jason started.

“You need a distraction,” Dawn finished. “You need out of your head for a little bit.”

Stubbornly, Jason followed Dawn out of his room. The window forgotten for a little bit at least.

\--

The manor that stood so tall and proud, grand in its own demeanor, had movement inside yet it felt empty. It had been for a while now. Instead now the occupants moved through its rooms like ghosts. Meals held in dim dinning rooms, a brightness once there gone and only the ceiling illuminating and casting shadows that hung around them like reminders of those who were once there.

Bruce Wayne had been sitting at the table, lunch served at two in the afternoon now lukewarm and cooling still. Besides the few morsels that he had shoveled around the plate, fork. in hand as he stared at a particular spot on the table, his mind elsewhere.

"Sir," Alfred said softly, though it startled Bruce none the less, the gentleness did nothing to ease the tension in Bruce. Placing the fork and allowing Alfred to take away the untouched food. 

"Thank you Alfred," It was automatic. Like he had been for most of the evening and night though Alfred would not comment on it. 

He wanted to further elaborate, that was always the way yet he instead found himself glancing over to the man, who stood waiting patiently as ever plate in hand. It was though he was waiting for a cue for something that Bruce didn't know. 

"What am I going to do Alfred," Bruce finally sighed and on cue the butler nodded, sighing himself and taking the liberty to set the plate of uneaten food aside for the moment in a small cart. "It is times like this that I wonder whether sending Jason away with Dick was the right thing to do.

"Master Bruce, you had Master Todd's best intentions at heart," Alfred reasoned, though from years of experience he knew it would do little to quell Bruce's concern. 

"And yet here we are," Bruce said, shaking his head a little to somehow clear the mess in it. "Dick should have called me the minute Deathstroke was involved."

It was like he still thought of Dick as Robin, in some sense he would also be. He had been monitoring, kept an eye out for Jason but he had his own responsibilities to attend to. The night had been long, after yet another long day, and the news had only made it harder.

When he had gotten the message, he had returned to the Cave drenched, every bit of him dripping. The transition from freezing rain to the scolding water of the showers in the Cave had been a welcomed relief. He felt for the briefest of moments that the tension in his muscles lessened until it returned as he left the shower, damp hair clinging to his forehead.

"Master Grayson has always burden himself unnecessarily," Alfred commented. "Much like someone else I know."

Bruce scoffed at that. "Yes I suppose. But this time Jason has been hurt because of it."

"Have you looked into the boy they found?" Alfred asked instead, knowing the route Bruce was walking down and knowing diversion was best for now. 

"I've sent out word, the Oracle is looking into it," Bruce replied, though it sounded too far off like it was someone else's doing and not his own.

"Very good, sir," Alred replied, moving out of the dining area with cart ahead of him. "May I suggest that you take the rest of the day to collect your thoughts?"

"I'll think about it," It did little to comfort Alfred, though Bruce knew that, they both understood a lie when they heard it. He didn't take time off, it was a foreign concept to him. Even with an injury, unless he was physically unable to move. He never stopped working. 

Nights off were for people who didn't have the burdens that he did.

Yet the weight of everything, the emptiness that hung in the air of the Manor left his will to argue with Alfred next to none. They had both felt a loss when Jason had left the Manor to be a part of the Titans. He was just tired at this point, he didn't even have the will to respond to Dick's message, which left a bitter taste in his mouth. He deserved a response yet Bruce felt incapable of giving one. 

Bruce had lost count of how many times his finger had hovered over Dick's name on his contact list. He had hoped sending Jason over to him would mend whatever rift there was without Bruce stepping too far into everything. And he'd hoped that Dick would be able to reach Jason in a way Bruce hadn't as of yet. 

He pushed the chair back and stood up.

No, he wouldn't push too far right now. Alfred wouldn't further insist on it and Bruce wouldn't try right now. Right now, he needed to gather his thoughts elsewhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read, hope you enjoyed it. Please don't forget to leave a kudos/comment to let me know. You can also find me on my tumblr at parabataibros.
> 
> I'd like to make another note here since I don't believe people are reading this part of my notes. I know in the show Jason is 19/20, however, I've done his age in this story to flow with the events in the comics. It leaves it open for me to perhaps continue this story in a second part based on the events in comics.
> 
> I know most people understand this but I'm still getting comments about this. I hope this clears everything up :)


	5. Mirror, Mirror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ THESE NOTES. IMPORTANT INFORMATION PERTAINING TO THE STORY
> 
> Hello again guys, posting this chapter a little earlier than usual because I had time to edit earlier this week.
> 
> Though with that in mind, errors will pop up so please forgive any formatting/grammatical mistakes. 
> 
> Constructive criticism is welcomed but I'd appreciate it if you keep it constructive. I've had a few comments about Jason's age in this, one person said it in a nice way and followed it with nice feedback for the story. On my part, I hadn't at the time disclosed that I had adjusted Jason's age to flow with a comic timeline better. So, I corrected it. And the second time, it wasn't in such a nice way and it was disappointing to wake up to find that that was all the person could say on this story. I love this story, I'm glad that people are enjoying it but it can be disheartening when the only voice I'm hearing in comments on a point in the story that I've already explicitly put in the notes of my chapters. 
> 
> The DCU continuity is a mess and I'm trying my best to piece it together to suit the story, so I won't follow it strictly to the letter. I also, despite how it may come across in this story, love Slade Wilson as a character and hope I get to write him more in comic character later on.
> 
> Now if the changes I've done from the TV show still get you prickly after my explanation for why I've done those changes... my apologies. Otherwise, relax and enjoy the story.

Kory, for the most part, had been observing. She watched as the younger Titans gathered in tight formation in the kitchen area, though Jason lingered as far from the flock as he dared to do without garnering notice. A lot had happened recently here with the Titans, never mind her own problems that she still had to deal with. Something was fracturing them, Kory could see it, she could feel it when she came back here. All too young or too self-absorbed to notice. None of them old enough it seemed to know to spot the cracks. None of them well versed in each other enough to know now was when to stand united. She eyed Rachel, reserved and on edge, almost as though she was the girl Kory had first met again. When she came back, Rachel closing herself off, Jason kidnapped, and Gar blaming himself. And Dick, well Dick was somewhere else. Physically here but mentally he was wondering. Being who she was, Kory had enough on her plate to warrant simply leaving without taking on the responsibility of the Titans. Yet, she wouldn't.

And only she could do was be there for them. Help when needed, but it didn’t feel like enough. Certainly brewing a hot chocolate didn’t feel enough, but maybe it was the little things that Jason, Rachel, and Gar needed. The kids had huddled around the counter top, Dawn standing not too far from them, sipping gingerly at her peppermint tea. Gar and Rachel were talking avidly, discussing some comic they had both been reading. Jason had remained quite, his hot chocolate untouched, staring down into the dark brown liquid as though he could make it disappear through sheer thought alone. Dawn had said that Jason needed out of his head for a little bit but it seems the boy was still there, trapped somewhere else. 

Jason stared, glassy-eyed as he watched the steamy waves come off his cooling cup of hot chocolate. Around him, the chattering buzz of Rachel and Gar filled the air.

“Jason, what do you think?” Raven asked as she placed her drink down on the counter and folding her arms in front of her.

Taking his eyes from the swirl of dark liquid, he finds himself the center of four pairs of eyes. His hands clench into tight fists in his lap, as they continue to stare. 

_The air leaves him like a gust of wind. It feels too difficult to catch it again like he’s sinking too quick until he drowns in it._

_Each time he gasps for air, he tries to find his feet. Then, when he thinks he’s fallen too far and he can hear the screams of the street below, he no longer knows how to breath again._

“Hmm?” Jason murmured, eyes lazily looking up at the others, his hands tightening in his lap once more.

“About the new girl, Rose?” Rachel asks, drawing out a breath.

“Haven’t been around much to form an opinion.”

Jason hitches on those last words. He’s out of breath and can’t finish his sentence. He holds it back because he’s fucking Robin, and Robin doesn’t fucking break down in front of the Titans. 

_He heard Dick crying out while he fell. Sometimes, he was sure of it._

“Well, I like her,” Gar said, and Jason was grateful for the diversion. “I mean, you know, despite her being Deathstroke’s daughter and all that.”

“Girl can’t help who her father is,” Kory reminded, it reminded them all too much of Rachel, and from the way Rachel sucked in a sharp breath, it reminded her too. “We get to decide who we are, not biology or any of that bullshit.”

_Jason tracks Deathstroke with his eyes, watching as he stands and his hands clench around his throat. He’s in front of him, tilting his chin up high, forcing Jason to look him in the eyes. Shameful tears cascaded across his cheeks and damped his hands as they pressed tighter._

_Jason stared back wordlessly. There was something wrong in the man's eyes, they were too blank. Even for a hardened assassin. This was business and Jason was nothing._

_On sudden impulse, the man’s grip strengthens, his hands closing like iron around his neck._

_Jason chokes, gasping desperately._

“Jason, honey?” 

_The taste of blood isn’t the same when you feel it could be your last._

“Jason.”

He’s back, the callous grip that clamped his throat softened, the faintness still edging around his throat like ghostly vices. A burning in his eyes that he wants to scratch out in fury fills him. He’s disappeared once more, Deathstroke, nowhere to be seen, but he’s still breathless. He can’t remember how to breathe. He gets up all too quickly, striking nausea hitting him. He has to catch himself on the counter. His legs feel numb and he wobbles unsteadily on them.

“‘m going to bed.” It was mumbled, and not a question. Jason, before anyone could protest, was out of the room without further word. 

No one else made to comment or move beside Gar, though Dawn’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. The stretch between them all seemed monumental and impossible challenging. Any two steps forward seemed like three steps backward. 

-

"Alfie?" It is barely above a whisper but heard by the man on the other end of the phone nonetheless. 

"Master Jason, it is good to hear your voice," And Jason didn't know how the man did it but the nerves that bundled in his body relaxed at the soothing tone of the butler. Alfred Pennyworth was no stranger to comforting the child, well versed in it from countless nights of doing so. "You have been sorely missed."

Jason felt his throat closing up. "Maybe Bruce shouldn't have sent me away then," he choked out. There was the slightest of sniffles on the other end though Jason dared not comment on it. 

"Master Bruce, had his reason though don't mistake that to mean you are any less welcome home, Master Jason," he said rather briskly, though his tone sounded wet with the threat of tears. "You simply say the word and you never mind Master Bruce, you'll be back home within the night."

It spoke amounts that Alfred hadn't asked how he was because he knew. Somehow he knew because they always knew. Alfred knew when to press and when not too, knew that Jason needed options when before none were given. So, that's what this was. An out for Jason if he needed it. But also a way to let the boy know that someone was there for him, that he didn't have to stay. 

"Thank you, Alfie, I-" Jason started.

"No need for thank yous, Master Jason, caring for you is a privilege in of itself," Alfred quickly replied, a surge of pride evident in the man's voice. "Master Bruce has never good with expressing himself, least of all to family, you just remember that no matter what you will always be his son and he will always be right here for you when it matters."

"Of course, Alfie," Jason sighed, his eyes closing at the words finally cutting himself from the gaze of his window. 

"I must be off now, Master Jason," There was a tinge of regret in the butler's voice. "Unavoidable matters I'm afraid but I thought I'd just check in on you."

"Sure," Jason nodded, though he couldn't hide the hint of disappointment in him. "Seeya, Alfred."

"Goodbye, Master Jason."

And the coldness crept back in. And the screaming started again. All he could do was turn up the music to find some distraction from it all. A knock on the door sounded and he resited the urge to ignore it, and instead walked over and opening it.

“The fuck are you listening to?” 

Blunt, to the point. A saving grace that Jason was finding so little these days. Everyone else around there was tiptoeing around him like if they made too much noise he would shatter into a million little pieces. Rose had no reason to either, she didn’t know him. Perhaps she didn’t care enough to treat him as fragile as the others did.

“Can I come in?” She asked, though to Jason it didn’t sound like a question. A statement of intent perhaps.

“No,” Was his simple response yet he did not move to slam the door on her face. 

She stares at him for a moment, eyes searching his as though she thought to study his mind. “Wow.”

Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “What?”

“I know the look,” Rose said. “He did a number on you.”

And that was it. Because of course he couldn’t go one moment without it being brought up. Though he feared he would never really go a moment without being reminded about it. He started to close the door, figuring he had enough of this conversation. “You can leave now.”

Her hand came up, halting the door before he could get it shut. “Really? You made it out alive from my dad. I thought you’d be…”

“What?”

“Tougher.” 

A slight dig, even he could see that, whether it was intentional or not. It stung a little, Jason was prideful to the point of recklessness if recent events were anything to go by. 

“You know your friends act like you’re a fuckup,” Another jab perhaps, her voice drones with certain tiredness that Jason was alined to. “But you’re the only one actually doing anything. The rest of them just argue with each other. You tried to stop my father. They didn’t do shit.”

It felt like gentle strokes, like stoking a fire that Jason felt burn within him. A resentment that had been bubbling inside. While she had jabbed and poked, she also lulled and soothed that resentment inside of him. 

“Dick did what he could.” Jason reasoned because right now he couldn’t believe that no one here didn’t try to come for him. That no one had put in the effort because Dick had, he had been there. He had tried. And that was more then most people had ever done for him in his life.

“Really?” She cocked her eyebrow, slightly tilts her head as though she was surveying prey. “Cause I heard he dropped you from a skyscraper.”

“Not his fault.” Jason bit back.

“Not yours either.”

Jason gets taken aback, he swallowed, bites his lip. Hearing it out loud, said by someone else. It was jarring, unusual. More often than not, Jason was use to the lashing he got. The blame. Someone in the group had to be the elected as the ‘troublemaker’. Even in his own beating, it should be his own fault. 

Her eyes seemed to soften, something Jason didn’t think was possible for Rose. He felt if it was pity he saw, he would have told her to fuck off, but that wasn’t it. It wasn’t pitying. Understanding, perhaps? Mutually understanding. He deflated, he resigned and feels himself chipping away at whatever wall of anger he had been building since he was a boy on the streets. 

“Look, I don’t want to be an asshole…” He starts because she’s not moving and he can’t take someone like her chipping away at him. Not when he can feel the cracks growing larger.

“Then don’t be.” Rose tells him. “I know my Dad did more than try to kill you. And your friends tried to kill me and that was after they tried to trade me for Deathstroke. So call us even.”

Even. Rose had said. It was like a weight had been on his shoulders, a painful reality he had to bear his entire life. Jason had never been even. He had been the one owing, the one taking back against the people who had been pushing him down his entire life. But he had never been even. 

So, relaxing his shoulders, he had cast his eyes from her for just a second at the thought he felt grounded.

It was like she had read his thoughts, looked through his eyes into his mind as she sighed. “God, what is up with everyone here, anyways? You people need some kind of super shrink to deal with all your problems.”

Jason chuckled, the concept too ridiculous to take too seriously. “That would mean actually talking about them. Not our strong suit.”

She scoffed at that but doesn’t seem to deny it. If only because she could relate to that. 

“You’re the only person worth talking to in this place.” It felt like a token of honour, a cherished reward that Jason yearned to have. Acceptance, even in the slightest. “You’re still out of your mind, but… I understand it.”

“Did you just say something nice in that? Yeah, I’m pretty sure you said something nice in that.”

Rose’s nose scrunched at that. “Don’t make this weird.” She makes her way past Jason, lingering at the door of his room, her hand pushing it shut. “So… you kicking me out?”

He hears the door click shut. “I was trying to.”

“But now you want to see where this is going.” He could almost hear the smirk in her voice, the way she crosses her arms as though she knows the answer. And maybe she does, though Jason was just as stubborn. “Admit it. So do I.”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t want to admit he can’t find the words to combat hers. “So, how about I DJ for a bit?”

“Up to you.” It comes off a little rougher then he intended, though he is happy that he managed to get the words out without fumbling them. Taking advantage of Jason’s moment of stunned silence, Rose moved to the records, her hands skimming them lightly. “Just don’t scratch my vinyl.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to all my lovely readers, I would love to hear some feedback to this story as well so don't forget to leave a comment and kudos.


	6. Crack and Fall

Dick Grayson didn’t know what to do. All he wanted was to find a way to pull his team back together, tell everyone it will be okay, but no, the voice told him. It won’t be.

Not when he could he had Dawn, Donna, and Hank standing around him. Bottles of soda, alcohol, and a photograph in hand. It was a cruel joke and, to paraphrase Hank, Dick ‘needed to find the little punk responsible before he did’. 

“Have any of you checked the security tapes?” Was the first thing out of Dick’s mouth. He sighed, putting a hand over his mouth as he stared at all the incriminating items. 

_Oh, come on, Dick. Who do we know could possibly have a reason to resent you all?_

Bruce smirked, hovering in the peripheral of Dick’s sight like a shade he couldn't shake. 

_Who have you failed recently, Dick?_

“No, we haven’t,” Dawn said admittedly. "When we discovered all of us had been targeted, we thought we maybe you had been too." 

"Jason knew I had a problem," Hank said, going over to the desk Dick sat at, his arms folded in front of him. "I may not have told him in so many words but the kid's smart, put two and two together."

Dick shot him a castigating look, Dawn's own eyes widening at the connotation. "Jason's been through a lot yes, but that doesn't mean..." Dawn started.

  
It was at that moment that Kory in, “Ah guys, I think you may want to come and deal with this.”

“What is it?” Dick asked.

“Rachel and Jason,” As though that was explanation enough.

And honestly, it was. The two had never really bonded, Jason was too quick to anger and Rachel was stubborn. Neither had given each other the chance beyond that. 

Dick felt the need to shake his head, just more shit to add onto the pile. “Look, I’ll have a look at the security tapes if someone is in the building messing with us, I need to know. Please go see what’s happening with Jason and Rachel.”

—

“Don’t fucking walk away from me!”

Dawn raised her hands placidly as the four entered the room to the two teenagers storming through the kitchen. “Whoa, what’s happening here?”

They could almost see the red glimmering in her eyes as she stopped, “Jason drew crucifixes all over my mirror.”

Jason had full intention of just walking out, but then Rachel just had to throw the accusation out into the open. Which was utter bullshit, he knew that. But they didn’t know that, because they would think he would do it. Because that’s what they thought. That’s what Rose thought when she had discovered her brother’s record in his room, she just assumed he knew. And he lost her. The only person worth talking to in this place. Who had understood what he had been through and it had shattered in an instant. He couldn’t handle that happening again. 

Just what exactly did they think of him?

To just be this monster? He was an asshole. He can admit that. He was unloveable and he deserved to be alone. Years on the street had taught him that. This ‘team’ was teaching him that. His own birth parents couldn’t handle him. Bruce had sent him away because he couldn't handle him. So why had he thought this could be different? It didn't matter where he went, who he was with, he would never be a part of anything. 

Though he would never- could never- let anyone see it, he so desperately wanted to be accepted. He would almost do anything for it. Almost. He sobered slightly at the thought, his face crumbling at the revelation. He had been by himself for so long, even when his mother and father were still alive, they weren't there. His father off being a third rate street thug and his mother too lost in the drugs to notice when he came with more bruises then he should. He longed for acceptance that he had been without since a child. That was a feeling that had been festering inside him for a long time. 

He turned around, “Bullshit!” His eyes skimming the room as they all looked at him. 

“Jason, honey, it’s okay to be angry…” Dawn continued, stepping towards the boy. “You’ve been through a lot recently, if…”

“I didn’t do shit, okay?” Jason pleaded, his voice unusually softening in the desperation. “Don’t blame me for her voodoo issues.”

“Why do you think Jason drew crosses on your mirror, Rachel,” Donna asked, her tone leveled as she tried to ease the tension in the room.

“I know he did it!” Rachel insisted, a venom in her words which she shot at Jason easily.

“The bourbon bottle,” Hank mumbled. “Where’d you get the bottle, Jason?”

“What?” Jason asked, a look of confusion briefly gracing his face amongst everything else swirling in him. 

Hank straightened up, “I caught you the other night, drinking. So what, did you get angry that I poured it down the sink? Thought it was funny to put one in my room? Not my type by the way.”

“Hank,” Dawn warned, “We don’t know if that was Jason.”

Dawn had her concerns sure. Jason was unstable right now, like a fuse ready to explode. Even before his kidnapping, Dawn saw how unpredictable the kid was. He didn’t think, just did, but right now wasn’t the time to lay on the child. He was a child. Plain and simple and sometimes Hank lost sight of that. 

Before Hank could answer, Jason shook his head.

“Look, I don’t know what happened guys.” Jason scrambled, his voice pitching unevenly as though he strained with the words. “But I didn’t do it.”

“He did stuff to you guys too?” Rachel asked it was as if she hadn’t heard Jason. Or maybe she did and chose to ignore it. Shutting him out like his word didn’t hold weight in the conversation.

Jason wanted to scream at them, but whatever he said fell on deaf ears it seemed. It was a low realisation that Jason understood that none of what he said matter. They had made up their minds, no matter if they didn’t say it. He could see it. Donna’s side glances, Rachel’s fury, Hank’s disappointment, and Dawn’s hesitation. Kory, if anything, looked sad. Perhaps she pitied him, which Jason hated even more. 

“Fuck this.” Jason shoved his way past the group, only to halt at Hank’s hand.

“Hey, we’re not done yet,” Hank said firmly.

Jason felt the pool in his eyes, he didn’t know when he had started crying. “You people are insane. I’m just a scapegoat for you all. If any of you had a single fucking brain cell, you’d know I haven’t left my room all day. I haven’t eaten, haven’t moved from my fucking window cause I can’t. ” And he realised how much this hurt. Beatings, torture. It was something he could explain away, tough out, and come through on the other end with minimal scarring. But this? This was something he couldn’t do. He had let himself believe, even for the briefest moment, that people had cared for him. That people would be there for him. But it had been a lie. A cruel lie that he had believed. At least with Deathstroke, he hadn’t lied to him. The torture was honest, the intentions were honest. “I’d rather be with Deathstroke than you assholes. You think everything’s my fault.”

Footsteps echoed into the room. Hank’s attention turned from the crumbling boy’s face as Dick walks into the room, completely unaware of what has happened. In the back, Gar groggily entering as well. 

“He’s here,” Dick whispered as though he feared an all-seeing presence. 

Hank cocked an eyebrow, “What?” The confusion evident in the man’s voice as he looked over Dick, the man couldn’t have been gone more than ten minutes. _And in those ten minutes, you alienated a fifteen-year-old boy who was already suffering_. 

“Deathstroke’s here, in the tower,” he rasped out, his eyes chasing the shadows in the room. “I found pictures…”

“What’s going on, can’t a guy sleep in?” Gar said groggily, though his eyes drifted to Jason, who beyond anyone’s noticed had drifted away from the group. 

“Dick, talk to me.” Hank raised his voice, earning the man’s attention. Dick’s eyes were wide, frantic if Hank were to put a word to it. “What’s with the gun? Weren’t you just looking at the security tapes?”

And just as suddenly, Dick’s attention was taken from him, looking past them as though there was something or someone behind them. 

“Where’d Jason and Gar go?” Dick asked, though before the other’s got the chance to reply, Dick turned on his heels, sprinting to the roof exit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the support. Please leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed it.


	7. Not Going Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for this chapter:  
>  Suicide Attempt is made in this chapter. If you had watched the Titans Season Two, then you know what scene this chapter pretains to. It does go into the feelings associated with suicide as well, so I would skip this chapter if that is too much.

The air was particularly cold at this height, whipping against the skin like tiny needles. When Gar had come out he had staggered in his steps at the sight, barely managing to keep his feet under him. His mind and body not quite catching up with what his eyes were seeing, and it caused his body to grind to a halt. 

He felt like he had been shocked. Gar was sure he'd never felt more unsure in his entire life.

“Hey, Jason,” Gar’s voice trembled, his hand outstretched as though he could reach out to Jason with their distance apart. Jason for his part didn't seem to register his voice. “Why don’t you come to me.”

Gar had heard the shouting, hard to go back to sleep when everyone in the building was shouting at the top of their lungs. By the time he got up, he had only heard Jason’s choked words combating against the sobs Gar could hear in his voice. Then Dick came in, and Gar caught Jason seizing the opportunity to slip to the roof exit. No one noticed, no one went to follow. So Gar did. 

When he opened the door to find Jason on the ledge, leaning too far forward over that edge that Gar feared even the slightest gust of wind would cause Jason to fall.

Once again, Jason’s body swayed too dangerously over that ledge, Gar catching a glimpse of his fists tightening at his sides. He had to think of something to say, find some way of breaking through Jason’s daze, and reaching him.

The tears spilled down his cheeks, the world around him suddenly feeling muffled and bleary besides his focus on Jason.“J-Jason,” Gar tried again, his voice thick. “Jason, it’s me, buddy. It’s me, Gar. I’m here, Jason. I’m right here. It’s just me. Me and you.”

Suddenly, Jason’s fist unfurled and Gar could find the will power to take in a shaky breath. He hadn't known Jason all that long, yet all of them had been drawn together, a shared understanding that none of them had had it easy. The young Robin shifted his feet on the ledge.

“I never stopped falling, Gar.” Jason breathed out in an exhausted whisper. “I want it to stop.”

Gar shook his head, tears continuing to fall. "No, Jason. You're not falling. You-you're here with me," he said, sorrow lacing his words. Understanding sunk into his bones. Jason hadn't left that rooftop. Of course, he hadn't. Every time Jason had a far off look in his eyes, every time he was here yet not _here_. 

"It'd be hours, Gar. And it just keeps going."

The door clicked behind him, Dick almost skids to a halt next to Gar. A panicked Jason shouted from Dick’s mouth when confronted by the scene in front of him. Gar’s vision blurred, his eyes strained, but that’s not why the world began swimming in front of him. Gar was watching as a friend inched closer to the edge and suddenly he was back in his nightmares, of Jason falling but no one was saving him.

—

“I keep falling.”

The hours following Jason’s return after his kidnapping, he had tried not to think or imagine this part, but he hadn’t been successful. How could he? Not when he had seen Jason’s body littered with marks, not when he could hear the pain in the kid’s voice no matter how hard he tried to cover it. Absurdly, somewhere deep inside Dick’s soul, he had nursed a fantasy where this wouldn’t happen. He’d developed a blossom of a belief that for once the universe wouldn’t screw everyone around him. Maybe he had been too focused on the hurt he felt, every time he saw Jason in the Robin outfit. How easily Bruce had been able to replace him. How he hadn't even been informed that Bruce had done it. He had been Robin, shouldn't he have had a say on the matter? He realised with a twist in his gut, that he had held that against Jason. That the resentment he held against Bruce had also been directed at Jason. He could remember a time when he had been overly confident, that he had been like Jason. Taking whatever attention Bruce had given him greedily yet he held that same idolisation against Jason. 

His breath hitched and his fist clenched. He had hoped beyond anything. _Damn you, Bruce!_ Though for once the man wasn’t here mocking him. What was the point of putting Jason in his care? Not when Dick could barely deal with his own problems.

Revealing to the others about Jericho and seeing the looks on their faces. How could think that he could start a new team on the foundation of lies? Was this some cosmic karma for getting Jericho killed? Maybe this was Deathstroke’s revenge. If it was, then Dick was responsible. 

“You’re okay,” Dick finally said breaking the silence that had fallen over the three.

A quick glance to Gar showed the panic in the boy’s eyes and Dick wished that he hadn’t been here for this.

“No,” Jason said, voice unsteady, shaking his head. He took a deep breath, letting the tears continue to run down his cheeks. “It won’t stop.”

“Listen,” Dick started gingerly, taking a step closer.

“Bruce wasn’t the first one, you know…” Jason said over his shoulder, as he continued on, his voice laced with resignation and maybe a hint of regret. “Who tried to help me.”

There’s a beat, Dick and Gar don’t say anything, letting Jason continue.

“I could make a list. Relatives, teachers, cops. You.” Jason paused. He kept looking forward as though he hoped the right words would float in front of him. “Nobody’s been up to the task, Dick. I got a poison in me. Shit spreads. It can affect even the healthiest people.”

“You’re not poison, Jason.” Gar implored, his own eyes watering again at the words. “You’re my friend. Please.”

“Why don’t you step away?” Dick urged finally, this time his voice breaking slightly. 

Suddenly, with slightly more vigor, Jason shook his head. “No.”

“Step away from the ledge, Jason.” Dick tried again, a still edge taking over him as he watched Jason shift his feet. He and Gar sharing a glance, silently exchanging their heightened worried.

The two inched forward, taking steady and measured steps like they were approaching a rabid animal. They came up either side of Jason, maintaining a distance far enough to give him enough space but close enough to reach out if needed. Dick took in deep harsh breaths trying to level himself through his racing heart as he sat himself on the ledge. 

“We’ll just sit up here quietly…” Dick nodded, he sounded more like a wish than a suggestion. “You, me, and Gar.”

A sob broke Jason’s body. “I fucked it all up. Coming here.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up, Jason,” Gar said softly.

“It happened once before.” Jason continued. “I once spent two nights in juvie and four fucking people died. It follows me like a curse.”

Dick didn’t have to see Jason’s faced to see the devastation, the guilt, the self-loathing. It still was following him like a ghost in the corner of his vision. 

“Nothing is following you,” Dick assured.

“I’m the reason they all hate each other,” A newfound heaviness entering the kid’s voice. “The reason that kid got shot. The reason this place won’t work.” A deep inhale."Standing here I feel clearer now. I was stuck in this loop long before that night with Slade. It's been like a cycle my whole life, falling one into the next like dominos. Days just tipping one into the other, that I had no control over it. That I would keep poisoning everything around me like an infection. Ever since that night I've felt this nothingness inside. And it spread, keeps spreading everywhere inside me, this nothing, I'm scared that I won't feel anything soon. I'll swallow everything around me if it isn't stopped."

Jason quieted after a moment. They all felt muted by the words, it took them less than a minute to weigh the implications in their minds, and not a second after Jason continued.

“But I can fix it. Remove the poison.”

Dick was sure that both his and Gar’s insides dropped at the same moment. The moment Jason’s foot hovered dangerously over the edge, shaking, and then dipping over.

“Jason, wait!” Dick cried out, the realisation he was too late again heavy as his hand reached out. Too let as Jason’s hand fell but he didn’t fall. He didn’t fall. Jason sucked in a shaky breath, his eyes finally looking below to the faraway ground. For a moment, Dick thought he was dreaming. Seeing Jason still there as though he was floating. And then he saw Jason’s hand gripping tightly Gar’s. The boy had reached out in time, saved Jason from falling again. 

Taking not a moment later, Dick reached out his own hand. “Jason take my hand!”

“You’ll let go,” Jason’s voice trembled.

“I won’t, Jason,” Dick pleaded, straining his hand. “Not this time. Now please, give me your other hand.”

It’s was as though Jason was pondering, his eyes not leaving the far off ground. It scared Dick. Seeing the swirling thoughts in Jason’s head, his own eyes glancing at Gar’s deathly grip on Jason. 

“Please, Jason.” Gar choked, tears freely falling, body trembling under the strain.

Silence laid steadily, the human eye could not isolate the line of fear that seemingly connected the three at that moment which suggested an understanding of what was hiding in them all, and yet somehow they traced it with ease, some chance connection turned it into despair. More frightening because the face of the fear trickled like poison, awake like a virus with the intent and a touch of purpose. 

It was that doubt which lingered, Dick feared that despair churning in them, which caused him to watch Jason and Gar's hand because he feared seeing it loosen. Yet Jason’s other hand swung up to Dick’s own. Dick twisted down slightly and looked up to Gar. With a nod, the two heaved Jason up, which was worryingly easier than either would have liked. The air around them almost felt too thick. Even when they had managed to pull Jason up, neither’s heart stopped racing, almost expecting to jump into action again. Dick swallowed and took a breath. He didn’t fall, he’s okay. 

Except he wasn’t and Dick didn’t think Jason would be for a long time. No help from any of them, no help from himself. The three had stilled in the silence, besides the heavy breathing, the deep panting as though they had all just been in a marathon. They had sagged to the ground. None seeming willingly to come back to reality just yet. Enjoying the illusion that the stillness brought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has made me feel confident in this story. Your support is amazing! 
> 
> As always please leave a kudos and comment for the story.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate all the support in this story. It is amazing to see. We are now on the path to more comfort and as such the story only has a few more chapters, I never planned for it to be a long story, however, I've started working on another Jason Todd fic which is a little longer then this one.

Without glances to anyone else in the room, Gar had hovered around Jason like a shadow. The three had come back to a room full of awaiting faces and all seemed to be trying too hard to pretend that they were casually relaxing in the room instead of anxiously waiting for all their return. Jason made his way to the table, it was rather creepy the way all eyes trained on him and followed. If he were in a better mind he may have commented on it, bit back with a vicious snarl they had accustomed him with. But his head felt too heavy and the words too much energy for his mouth to say. 

Jason didn't want to meet any of their gaze, fearful of what he may see in them. 

_Is there any danger in them?_ Something scratched at the inside of his brain, sliding far too easily through the darkest corners. 

Jason looked down at his own hands. Still blemished and he feared they would always be, if not for the beatings on others than for the beatings others did to him. He had been battered before, had bounced back every time. But this time... it would take him much longer than it would take just for the physical wounds. The itch for the comfort of the Manor. He needed time to stabilise he realised, somewhere safe and that certainly wasn't here. Not when he felt threats lurking in all corners.

“Gar, maybe take Jason to his room,” Dick’s tone was calm and tired, drained as though the world had siphoned him and the man had little cause to care for it. One the group hadn’t heard too many times before and it caused a spike of worry.

“I wanna stay,” Jason mumbled quietly, narrowing his eyes down at his hands as though they had been the ones to suggest it. Gar dared an uncertain look towards Dick.

Dick's head tilted to the side. It was interesting to see the words play on the man's face without the vocalisation of them, even more so when it seems they could understand. 

“Come on, I’ll stay for a bit with you,” Gar added on, as though the offer was a hook too irresistible to swim by from. 

And maybe it was for Jason because the boy didn’t put up a fight as Gar guided him away from the onlookers, not sparing a glance to them as the two left. 

When it seemed the two were out of earshot, Donna piped up. “Dick, what-“

“What the hell happened,” Dick cut in, the cuts less of a question than demand, and suddenly his tempered tone wasn’t as measured as before. 

Rachel seemed recluse, shifting nervously in her spot. And maybe Hank seeing this decided to step up. “Rachel and Jason got into a fight, we were just trying to figure out who was messing with us.”

“And you couldn’t wait the ten fucking minutes it took me to go to the security room to check,” Dick turned around, cutting off whatever Hank may have further said. “Someone got to them before me, the tapes were cut but it seemed Deathstroke knew I’d look. He’s been taking pictures of us.”

Hank blinked and his brow furrowed as if Dick was suddenly speaking a language the man didn’t understand. 

“He’s playing us,” Dick continued to press on. “The things you guys found? Him. It wasn’t Jason.”

“What happened out there, Dick,” Dawn asked, her eyes burrowing into Dick’s as though she thought to express her regret that way. Perhaps she knew what had transpired, and perhaps that made Dick even more angry. 

Dick took a moment, casting his head down once more. “Gar and I had to pull Jason back up after he jumped off the building.”

The group gave a collective gasp, Hank sank back to the bench. A certain heaviness weighing down on his shoulders. 

“Dick- I-I didn’t mean to make Jason feel that way-“ Rachel rambled, and for a moment Dick wanted to go over to the girl and wrap his arms around her. Maybe that was more for himself than her as well. “I just-“

“Rachel,” Dick stopped her. “No one is blaming you.”

“I am.” Rose bit out harshly, and that’s what she wants her eye narrows at them. “In fact, I’m blaming every single one of you.”

“Rose, there is no need for that,” Donna said clearly, though the tone of authority seemed less heavy with the reality they faced. 

“Yes, there is,” Rose scoffs, “My god you people are acting like Jason didn’t just jump off a roof because all of you ganged up on him over something that wasn’t even his fault. What if Dick didn’t make it in time or should I say what if Gar wasn’t there.”

“Rose, I understand you’re angry but attacking Rachel,” Dick started.

“I found my brother’s record,” Rose said too bluntly like it was an ace in the hole and she knew how devastating it would be. And she was right, as she looked at the fall of Dick’s face, the shuffling of Hank, Dawn, and Donna. “You had something to do with my brother’s death.” Rose stood up. “I’m out.” 

It was heavy, after to Rose left, none of them wanting to say the next thing because none of them knew what to say. Until Kory stepped forward.

"You need to contact Bruce," Kory said without any hesitation, her eyes leveled with Dick's and maybe there wasn't her typical patience there anymore. "The boy needs more than you- than we- can offer him."

"It was one mistake," Hank started, his tone is somewhat difficult to read, and Dick's not too sure how much of it comes from Hank's own guilt in the matter. "We couldn't have-"

"We should have," Dick said firmly, maybe if Hank had said it with more tack then he wouldn't have let it come out as harshly. "After Deathstroke happened we walked on eggshells around him but the moment something went wrong with the team, we turned on him. How is that fair?'

"So, what?" Donna runs a hand through her hair before letting out a heavy breath, and at the least some of the churning in her gut. She mostly sounds frustrated, with herself, with everything. "We start blaming each other? It won't help."

It's a reiterated lesson then, that none of them knew how to work together. "No, we talk about it. Learn from it, we aren't helping each other if we pretend like this didn't happen. It's on all of us."

—

It’s dark when he wakes, lying on a soft surface he hadn’t remembered falling on. He could feel the haziness in him, a force that is keeping him down. He’d been trying (and failing) to recall how he had ended up back in his own room. He’d recalled leaving it, if only from the flashing red of Rachel’s eyes, but now the rest was a cloud of thick ash in his head. 

Jason was just as surprised to see Gar standing in his room. The last time this occurred was due to his own trouble sleeping, it was comforting and pleasant- if you disregard the circumstances surrounding it. So, it puzzled him, that Gar was back.

“What are you doing here?” Jason’s throat felt like sandpaper, his head started a steady pulsing beat that took some of his attention away from Gar, who turned away from the nook of books Jason had collected over the years. Gar didn’t look too good himself, heavy bags under his eyes, his hair less styled than usual. More importantly, that naive and aloof look that Gar had wasn’t there, instead, it’s dimmed, hollowed out.

“You don’t remember?” It comes out more like a statement then a question. Jason just shakes his head and it’s like Gar debates on telling Jason, as though a burden has suddenly dropped on his shoulders and he doesn’t want to share it with Jason. “You- ah you and Rachel got into a fight, I think, the others thought you did stuff to them. There was yelling, you went to the roof-“

“Stop!” It’s harsher then Jason would’ve liked, he doesn’t want to be an asshole to Gar. To scare him off, for him to look at him with the same disdain as everyone else had. And more conflicting, to leave him alone. Because all Jason wanted was to be left alone right now, yet the urge to have another presence near him was strong. “‘m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Gar soothed, he turns his attention fully from the books, busies himself in settling on a chair. “I wouldn’t want to be walked through something like that again either.”

“What’s going on with the others?” Jason asks quickly, too keen to turn away from that topic, to distract himself from what he had nearly done. 

Gar shrugs but then continues on with, “They all looked pretty serious when we came back after- anyway Rose stormed past before, asked if you were okay before leaving. She didn’t look too happy.”

“I think Dick hid something about her brother,” Jason pushed himself up, his eyes falling on the vinyls, Jericho’s still sitting on top from when Rose had discovered it. “She wasn’t too happy when she found his record in my collection.”

Gar uttered an ‘oh’, “Anyway, I think it all calmed down around two hours again, at least I couldn’t hear shouting. Honestly, I’m glad I’m here instead of out there.” He rings his fingers, nodding his head slightly, before continuing to speak. “I wish we could just talk all this stuff out rationally, now that Deathstroke’s been in the building…”

He hadn’t of known that. Hadn’t been privy to whenever that was discovered. And maybe Gar hadn’t known that he didn’t know. After all, Gar hadn’t been there for the accusations the others threw at Jason. Maybe he thought the reason Jason was on the roof, to begin with, was because of Deathstroke. He didn’t know.

It was a comfort, Jason thought, to know that Gar was here out of support and maybe not the pity and guilt harboured from the others. And maybe he was also doing it so he wasn’t left alone so a homicidal maniac could murder them in their sleep.

“-And now the Tower’s on lockdown.” Gar finishes, he takes a minute to observe Jason. How his body seems too ridged, his limbs strung like cords on a violin on the verge of snapping. He deliberates, seeming to weigh the odds of whether Jason will explode on him or not. “I’m sorry, Jason.”

Jason seemed stumped for a moment, the impact of the words so confounding that he can’t quite understand them. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because- because I wasn’t there for you,” Gar struggles to put together the right words for why he was saying sorry. Not because he didn’t know what he was sorry for, but because there were too many things. “I should’ve tried harder-“

There is a terrifying moment of clarity for Jason where he wonders just how much Gar puts on himself.

He doesn’t try to refute Gar as he would have normally, or simply brush it off. He knows that was what he would have done, before all this, and he knows that wasn’t what he wanted or what Gar needed. If even Gar- the one person in this ‘team’ that Jason was most likely to place as blameless- could see Jason for how he is, not who he fronted. Jason figured that he could amount the same respect in return. 

So when Jason stood up from his bed, he walked over to Gar, who in turn stood up. Gar looked a little uncertain at the notion, as Jason made a very foreign move of wrapping his arms around his friend. It was awkward and stiff, Jason not too familiar with actual human contact. But when Gar returned the gesture, Jason felt himself just melt into the contact. For the first time in a long time, human contact hadn’t been the impeding fist to his body. 

Because he was hugging Gar.

He was hugging Gar.

He thinks vaguely, of the first time Bruce found him, his stomach hollow and his skin stretched too thin around bones. And what little resolve in him breaks, a snap of a string.

Jason heaves and he chokes, stutters in harsh gasps of air as he cries. He doesn’t seem to notice when Gar starts to do the same, nor when either falls into harmonised silence. Years of relying on only himself don’t prepare him for these feelings and he relishes it like a man in a desert does water. 

He sniffed, and Gar was suddenly made aware of the tremors running through Jason’s body. The act of Gar strengthening his hold on Jason drove Jason to bury his head further into Gar’s shoulder, his sobs growing louder as he clung onto Gar tighter. Gar could feel the wetness from his tears seeping onto his shirt. Gar didn’t say anything, he remained silent, allowing Jason to breakdown in the privacy of his own room, away from the others. 

Taking a shuddering breath, Jason clears his mind of thoughts- a feat he had never quite thought possible, with how invading his thoughts were always whispering- and focuses on the moment. On Gar being here for him. They finally part their embraces, meeting each other’s eyes. Jason nods his head, and after a few seconds, they each take a step back.

All Jason wanted was for someone to reach out and comfort him and tell him it was okay, to soothe the fear banging in his chest instead of looking at him with judgemental cold eyes and shutting the door in his face. And Gar had been that.

So just for the moment, that’s all this was. And Jason clung to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the support and don't forget to kudos and comment.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the continued support and love for the story! It's great to see it. I just thought I'd let you all know I've started writing another story for Jason Todd, I'm hoping to start posting it soon.

As the world seemed to go to hell around Dick, he couldn't stop staring down at the photographs. He had stopped caring at the looks the others were giving him when he had scattered them over the table and when Rachel had quietly slinked away to her own room, didn’t care about the guilt on everyone’s faces, or the way his own guilt crept onto his. No, for him, there was only the mission now. It was all he could focus on, after the unraveling that had been the past week, of being followed by a shadow of his father figure, and he had spent so long with the burden of Jericho’s death on his shoulders that nothing was going to get in his way of finally ending it.

He glared at the photos of Rachel, the way Jason and Rose embraced each other, but even in the throes of his determination, he recognised that all he had been doing was staring. He hadn’t actually done anything for the past several minutes and he ignored the anticipating looks of Hank, Dawn, Donna, and Kory.

Perhaps subconsciously, he thought that the solution would just appear in front of him, that the pieces of Slade’s puzzle would fall into place because he was Dick Grayson, he had been Robin, and the heroes always figure it out. Even while he stared at the photographs, he could see how close Slade had gotten, yet he hadn't attacked. It didn't make sense with how close Slade had been, why hadn't he done anything besides taunt them. It was why he had ordered a lockdown of the tower.

“Dick,” Hank finally said, Dick was expecting it to be harsh and rough like it usually always was from Hank, however, the man just seemed tired. “What are we going to do?”

And everything seemed to slow down.

Through the reality of now, he heard the tiredness in Hank’s voice. The thin veil of stoic covering his face slowly diminishing as he finally looked up to the others. “I don’t know.”

He was expecting the backlash, the roar of demands, and explanations why. Why hadn’t he thought of this? Why hadn’t he been prepared? Surprisingly all Bruce could do was tsk at him. _What no snappy remarks,_ Dick thought bitterly.

Surprisingly, Kory steps up though it isn’t too surprising really, She had remained a silent observer so far, watching it act out in front of her. “How about we focus on the team? Deathstroke is doing this to set you all apart, why let him?”

There had to be a flaw in Kory’s logic. Dick couldn’t assume that it would just be that easy, that cliche. It was never that easy, he couldn’t believe it. But Dick had seen how Slade had planted the seeds of doubt. Had watched as what he had done to Jason poison the rest of them. Slade was the poison.

“And so what,” Hank struck back. The man seemed conflicted, “How are we having a little therapy session about all of this going to change anything? Tell me how having some chit chat about what it feels like to be lied to about a kid's death or the fact that we drove Jason to-“ Hank stopped himself, there was a terrible look on his face as though the thought of the next couple words was sickening. “That Jason nearly killed himself because of us.”

That miserable, pooling heat in Dick’s chest had been there to greet him almost every waking moment. Pulsing with every word that Hank had said. Sometimes he thought it best to just stay low, let events unfold without him to bear the responsibility. “Because that’s the exact reason why we need to.” Dick finally decided on the words, the ones that didn’t feel like tar in his own throat. “Because on that ledge, Jason thought that he was the poison in this team, that he thought he was responsible for all of this. I was going to tell him before… I was going to tell him that it wasn’t him, that it was me. Jericho’s death has been with me for so long, that I’m the reason Slade’s back. But Kory’s right, Slade is doing this. We can’t let him win.”

“We’ve been neglecting them all,” Dawn said. “But Jason most all, he’s as much a part of this family as any of us are.”

“So, let’s start fixing that,” Dick responded.

—

Jason heard footsteps coming up to his door, to be honest after Gar left him alone for a bit (which had been an effort) Jason had felt a pang of loneliness set in. The two had talked about everything other than Jason and it was nice. It was nice pretending that for a moment nothing was wrong and everything was alright. Jason after a while noticed the way Gar’s head would jerk, not that he hadn’t had a decent night sleep but Gar was mentally exhausted. On telling Gar to go to bed, the boy outright refused until Jason told him he needed a little space to think on the promise of going to him if anything was wrong. Gar left begrudgingly.

Jason was about ready to scold Gar, having gotten up to his door only to find Rose on the other side of it.

Jason was surprised to see her here. From what Gar told him, Rose had left the Tower which he didn’t blame her for. The thought of leaving was tempting. But to show up in his room considering the last time they were alone together she discovered that Dick had been lying to her about her brother.

So, yes, he was surprised to see her in his room after everything. After they had all ganged up on him after he threw himself off the tower… Thinking about it again made his stomach clench on itself, bile rising in his throat which he forced back down.

“I thought you left,” it comes off a little pushier then he likes it to be. Like he wasn’t relieved she was still here even if she hated him.

“Wow, don’t sound too disappointed,” she pushed past him like last time, settling into his room as though it were her own. “I’m bored, keep me company.”

“Can’t you be bored in your own room?”

“No,” it was clear and short. To the point as she always was. He liked that about her, there was no workaround, no hidden meaning in what she was saying. She just said it. If it had been before, he may not have taken that no so easily. In fact, he would have talked her ear off until she would either punch him or punch him and leave.

“No? I thought you couldn’t stand being around us,” Jason pushed, seeing what exactly may set her off. “Hear you and Dick got into before.”

“He lied about my brother, Jericho. Was there when he died. So yeah, I have some issues with your mentor, dick for wings. I stormed off with the intent to leave this shithole then realised that you’d be alone in this shithole with assholes, you know, besides Gar that is.” She turns to him, her face seemed softer then it had before. “I came past earlier, you were asleep, Gar was watching over you. Leaving now would only make you and Gar more vulnerable, it’d be an asshole move to up and leave when the man I had as a father was in the building.”

“Did you just somehow say that you care about me?” Jason smiles for what could be the first time in a while, it lifts him a little.

“No,” she retorted, her arms crossing over her chest. “I’m just thinking logically.”

“No, pretty sure you just did,” Jason remarked, maybe expecting her to sport a look of disdain, yet she only sighed.

“Fine,” she says all too calmly, shrugging her shoulders. “I care. I care that you thought you could jump off a building without thinking about me.”

Jason raised his eyebrows at that, looking a little taken aback. “Thinking about you? Sorry, the last thing on my mind while I was on that ledge was your feelings.” Jason scoffed, he could feel himself vibrate with anger that he was so familiar with. “Why the hell did you come here anyway? To have a go at me for how inconsiderate I am? Yeah, so fucking typical of me.”

Rose stared blankly at Jason, letting him vent until he finally went quiet. “You need to stop doing that you know?”

“Doing what?” Jason bit out.

“Blaming yourself,” Rose responded. “I care about you, Jason. More then I am comfortable with. Part of the reason why I was angry with Dick was that I saw how much everyone hurt you. I saw how I hurt you and I hate myself for it. I’m sorry, Jason.”

Jason was sure Rose saw the flicker of emotion that washed through him, he hadn’t been particularly good at hiding it lately.

“I thought- I thought you blamed for whatever happened to your brother,” Jason started, “I hated myself for ruining one of the only good things in my life right now.”

Rose walked up slowly to Jason, trying to collect herself properly. She took in the boy’s demeanor; the bruises not yet faded, the puffiness of his eyes still red from tears he had shed before she got here. She would lie if asked whether the twinge of panic overcame her. Panic at the thought she’d been close to losing Jason because it seemed too rushed. Too quick when most of her life she had shut herself off from everyone.

Rose shook her head, leaning in. “You didn’t ruin it.” She whispers, her breath so close to his lips he could feel the heat.

She stills before his lips, her eyes searching his for a moment almost asking if this is okay. Getting the confirmation she moves forward, kissing him more gently than she normally would have and he gives in completely. It’s soft and gentle, none of that roughness that Jason was used to his whole life. It was something she could give him, something she offered to him and he took it. She needed it too though she wouldn’t say it out loud.

They pulled back, stilling in the moment, let it run over them and bask in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, don't forget to leave a kudos and comment if you enjoyed!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I write a therapy session for the team? Yes I did.
> 
> Sorry about missing the update for last week, I was finally back at work for the first time in over two months and I had a few assignments due that week.
> 
> Final chapter for the story, though this installment is small, I'm thinking about maybe writing a second one with Jason returning to Gotham after the season two finale and involving Bruce and such as hinted in this story. Though I'm going finish writing my new Jason fic which I'll be sure to post on here eventually.

Life in the Tower somewhat returned to a functional state. There was something in the air that told everyone that something was different. They way whenever Rachel and Jason happened into the kitchen at the same time, they would suddenly cast their gaze down and leave the room even if they hadn’t gotten what they wanted. It was suffocating and uncomfortable and it wouldn’t take too long before it all imploded as it normally does. They all liked to talk about not bottling all this trauma up but none of them actually followed through with their own words.

That is when Dick had the brilliant idea of calling a team meeting, no one protested though the room was deathly quiet the hour it took to get them all sitting in the common room.

“I’m sorry, I thought we already talked about this shit, remind me again why we need to again?” Jason grounded out, he was done talking about it. How did any of them expect him to move on if every ten minutes it was being brought up? But what was worse was how he reacted when they did. The way he staggered slightly, his eyes would be downcasted suddenly and he made the shortest path towards the exit. It made him all the more angry when they noticed and voiced it. 

Hank squinted at him, cocking his head to the side. If Jason squinted back, it almost looked as though Hank’s nostrils were flaring. “Kid, we’ve actually haven’t talked. We’ve acknowledged it. Dick’s right, it’s best to actually talk about this in the group.”

“What’s best?” Rose punctuated the question by grating her fingers along the armrest. “You really think that any of us believe that you guys have our best intentions in mind?”

And Christ, Rose was right. They had waited too long to bring this up, let it simmer, and boil as Dick had done with the Jericho situation and the old team. They had only narrowly recovered as a team from that, just barely agreed that they had to continue on, if only for the sake of the kids in their care. Donna, Hank, and Dawn still held that grudge against Dick, though the days after saw them brush it aside and come to terms with it. Come to terms that although Dick had lied to them, that any of them could have been in the same situation. Kory, ever the mediator, had her own issues to deal with but wanted the people she considered family to be okay. Rachel hadn’t quite been the same since that day, she had become more reclusive despite Kory’s best efforts to talk to her. Rose’s temper grew shorter as the waiting for her father to act grew, and Gar wandered the tower aimlessly, sometimes finding himself in Jason’s room enjoying the company and sometimes trying to connect back to Rachel.

And as for Dick and Jason…

They hadn’t shared a word. Despite Dick’s claims of fixing this, he hadn’t actually worked up the courage to confront Jason. Every time he nearly did, he lingered just outside the kid’s door. Sometimes he could hear faint sobbing, sometimes Jason and Gar laughing. He never found the right moment to knock on the door in either instance. 

Jason took a deep breath, tried to ignore the racing of his own heart, and scoffed back at Hank. “You really want to be sitting in a therapy circle, talking feelings, and calling it a day? How the hell are we supposed to go five minutes without any one of us exploding at each other?” Jason stole a quick glance at Rose when he said it, who just glared back at him. “Or even fucking better, how the fuck are we supposed to have an actual conversation or are you all going to start throwing accusations again?”

Dick, who had been surprisingly quiet, finally piped up again. “That won’t happen again, Jason, I promise you.”

Jason glared at him from his spot at the table. “Oh, so you’re talking to me now?”

“Jason,” Kory said calmly. The two looked at each other, and Jason couldn’t find the willpower to turn his aggression at her. “If you want this to work, you have to be able to listen to other people as well, be open about this.”

“Fine! But I’m not taking any more bullshit from you people.”

It was something none of them would argue against, the anger in Jason’s voice something they understood now and the slight shake in the kid’s voice told them that this wasn’t the time to press him about it.

“Don’t get angry at Dick,” said Rachel meekly.

“Wouldn’t want any misplaced anger going around would we, Rachel.”

“She’s only trying to help, Jason.” Dawn reminded.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I should really consider someone’s feelings before I tear into them. Never know, they might be suicidal.”

“Enough, Jason.” Rose groaned over the noise.

“You need to calm down right now,” Hank warned.

“Kiss my ass.” If it wasn’t for Dawn at Hank’s side, it was very likely the man wouldn’t have stayed in his seat.

“Well, this meeting has gone to shit,” Gar muttered softly besides Jason. At this moment, Dick slams his hand down on the table.

“Enough!” Dick raised his voice. “This is the problem. We can’t learn to communicate in a healthy way then we are no longer a team. Our job isn’t just to stop the bad guys, it is to be here for each other.” He surveyed the group, seeing that people had settled back into their seats. “We came so close to not being a team, and that is on all of us, me included. But we are still here, for each other. I thought maybe opening up to each other would help heal the rift between us.” Dick hung his head in shame at the words. “I know that being here, that I haven’t always been there for all of you.”

That’s an understatement, but Jason kept the thought to himself.

“I can’t go back and change my mistakes. Go back and do things differently. But I’m going to do everything I can to be here for each of you now.” Dick sighed, and for the first time, Jason actually felt reminded of the position his predecessor was in.

After a moment, Hank seems to straighten up. “I’ve been a jackass to you, Jason.” He said, Jason looked up, startled, the remnants of his anger fading in a way that makes Hank feel the regret tenfold.

“I know,” Jason said back, though there wasn’t a bit in it.

There’s a heavy silence, then. Frankly, everyone was growing tired of those. It felt like none of them could just talk for the sake of being together. Silences between them rarely were true silences.

“Shit, I don’t know how to word this, I feel stupid,” Jason started, the nearing of tears evident on his voice. Dick resists the urge to reach out to his brother. He shouldn’t be calling himself that. He shouldn’t. “Because, I’m fucking Robin, and you guys think it’s a stupid ego thing. But I’m supposed to be this person who is fucking fearless and kicks ass. Not a fucking moron who gets himself kidnapped and goes to kill him-“Jason stops. “I can't go back to who I was before Batman picked me. A part of me wants to apologise, for not being who I should be.”

Dick looked down, in fact, at that moment everyone seemed to want to have their gaze to some part of the room that wasn't on Jason. “We haven’t been putting our trust in you, Jason. In any of you,” Dick looked to Rachel, Gar, and Rose. “We expect you all to go out and risk your lives on missions but don’t return that with the trust and responsibility you deserve.”

They haven’t. The thing about that kind of trust is- once you start putting that kind of trust in people, it’s put those people outside of your protection. How was Dick to protect people that way? 

“I understand,” Gar nodded a little shakily. “But we can’t work together as a team if you guys aren’t telling us the truth, and trusting us with that.”

“I know that now,” Dick responded. He contemplated his next few words carefully, this conversation felt like the weight of the entire team, and a voice in his head reminded him that it was good. “I lied to Hank, Dawn, and Donna about Jericho.” Rose had a sharp intake of breath. “I told them but I lied for so long that it almost broke everyone apart. Slade is back because he thinks I’m responsible for your brother’s death Rose. I couldn’t save him, that night I wasn’t quick enough and Jericho saved me from your father.”

Another silence. “Not your fault then.” Her eye is glassy as she stared at Dick though she doesn’t dare let it slip out. “And it’s a stupid-ass reason to lie about it and an even more stupid reason to get angry over. Honestly, you people are so stupid sometimes it’s a wonder you survived this long.” She laughed, for a strange reason. It’s such a surprisingly comforting thing that none of them are distracted by it. “People make mistakes, and yeah I’m beyond pissed off that my brother was killed because of that mistake, but if what you say is true, my father is the only one to blame for his death. It’s been years, I’ve mourned, I’ve moved on. So should all of you. End of discussion.”

And really, that’s it for Dick. As Rose all but gives him forgiveness, it crumples the hardened guilt that had rotted in his chest. It wasn't complete forgiveness and Dick feels as though it was only partly been given for Jason's sake. But it is more than enough for him. He tries to pull himself together, more for the sake of everyone else.

“I’m sorry, Jason.” The words are sudden, like a firework set off. Rachel hadn't had such gentle words for him before that them being directed at him gave him whiplash. “I was horrible to you.”

Jason’s startled at the words, his body tenses then he settles into his chair once more. “I haven’t exactly been nice to you in the past.”

_But that doesn’t make what happened fair._ Dick can’t interject those words. They stick on his tongue, somehow, and although he wants to tell Jason that it was still not okay, he lets the two say what they need to say.

Rachel seemed to open herself up more, shifting to fully face Jason. “It still wasn’t right. I know you’d been through hell, knew that you were still hurting but all I could do was think of myself and my own feelings that I forgot you had feelings too. I should know better then anyone what's it like to be judged for something that isn't your fault.” She knows there is more she wants to say, Jason knows it too. But for now, it is enough.

“I forgive you,” Jason finally said, and for the first time, it isn’t self-deprecating for him. “As much as I want to place the blame on all you. But it was just icing on the fucking cake that day. If it wasn’t you, it would have been something else.”

And it was a harsh realisation. That Jason had been hurting for that long, and they hadn’t noticed. Dick had a burning in his eyes. There’s a pang of heavy guilt still in his stomach and Jason’s words had unraveled it.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered out. It feels like a confession, blinking his eyes furiously at the pricks of tears. “I didn’t mean to not be there for you.”

“Jesus, Dick,” Jason remarked softly. “Stop carrying the weight of everything on your shoulders. We’re all a little fucked up I think.”

It’s true, they all think. But they were there for each other. It’s a thought they all share now. They had work to do sure, but they were there for each other as a team.

Jason didn’t know acceptance felt so inviting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again I want to thank everyone who showed this story love! It was amazing seeing the support from this fandom, I'd dare say one of the best I have been a part of. 
> 
> Please leave a review/kudos. I'll continuing replying to them and it is still very much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read. Kudos/Comment if you liked it.


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